


danandphilKINKS

by snsk



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Barebacking, Breathplay, Chastity Belt, D/s elements, Daddy Kink, Dan in heels and panties and make up, Desperation, Enemas, Established Relationship, Feminisation, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Powerbottoming, Public Sex, Sensation Play, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Tapes, Subspace, Watersports, what else does one really need
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7375912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've got mine!" Dan said, waving it triumphantly. Phil knew this was serious, then, because a) he hadn't procrastinated on it at all, and b) it was barely legible: he'd handwritten it.</p><p>Or: Dan and Phil have a bucket list. Except with less seeing the Great Wall of China and more Googling <em>how to wash enema.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

"A kink list?" Phil demanded. "What does that mean, Dan? What does that even mean?"

"To spice up our relationship," Dan explained patiently. "You make one and I make one, and we compare and cross out the ones we're definitely against. And then we try all the ones left, one by one, and see what we like. I read about it online."

"First of all," Phil said, "is our relationship not - spicy - enough? I mean." He was referring to the collar and leash, lying innocently in his drawer in the bedroom, all innocuous smooth leather and sleek metal. Dan turned a little pink.

"Well, yes, that, when we do that," he said. "But. Apart from it. We're an old married couple, Phil. We watch TV and kiss goodnight and have vanilla sex and turn over to sleep. Did you know that TV in bed kills couples' sex drives? And we do it _regularly!"_

"TV in bed pretty much _is_ our relationship," Phil protested.

Dan glared at him in the way he had when he felt Phil wasn't taking him seriously enough. "We always joke about trying shit out and never actually do. We're making lists," he said. "Phil! Promise me we're making lists."

Phil had no good reason to say no. He wasn't going to refuse Dan anything, and he definitely wasn't against some potentially interesting experimental sex with his boyfriend, and besides Dan was probably going to go off the idea in a few days, once he realised the work that went into researching some of these kinks.

"I'll make a list," he agreed, and Dan grinned at him and pressed his lips to the side of his head and unpaused the second last episode of Game Of Thrones, which they were lazily watching in bed.

***

Dan did not, in fact, go off the idea in a few days. In fact, in a few days, Dan burst into the room where Phil was trying to edit one of their gaming videos.

"I've got mine!" he said, brandishing it triumphantly. Phil knew this was serious, then, because a) he hadn't procrastinated on it at all, and b) it was barely legible: he'd handwritten it.

"Let me see it, then," he said.

Dan clutched the piece of paper to his chest. "No. Show me yours and I'll show you mine. That's what she said."

Phil sighed. "I haven't done mine."

Dan turned huge, betrayed eyes on him. Phil allowed himself another heavy sigh.

"But I'll do it right now," he amended. "Instead of, you know, editing this video, our actual job and the way we make a living."

" _Thank you,"_ Dan said, rather huffily, and exited the room as dramatically as he'd entered.

Phil glanced at his screen. He closed FinalCut Pro and loaded Google up, and wondered if Yahoo Answers had any solutions to "my boyfriend thinks we need a kink list?"

Any form of torture was out of the question, of course, and anything involving blood or actual animals. This left Phil with a lot of things in a pretty grey area. After squinting at the screen and hurriedly clicking out of a few Wikipedia articles, he mentally crossed out any form of scatplay and body modification, and finally started writing.

He started off with:

1\. Bondage  
2\. Spanking

because he'd always been curious about them, anyway, and Dan would cross out anything he was uncomfortable with, and he was the one who'd asked him to make the list, anyway, and Phil needed to stop overthinking this.

After some more mildly shocking research, he scribbled down

3\. Watersports

and came out when Dan called him for lunch.

"You finished?" he asked Phil over ham sandwiches. He'd added in extra tomatoes and subtracted the cheese, of course. He'd made Phil Ribena.

"Cut me some slack," Phil said. "It took you three days."

Dan shrugged. Phil's mind kept replaying images he'd seen online, only it kept mentally photoshopping Dan's perfect pale ass trussed up in restrictive black leather, Dan's face upturned to willingly receive-

This was all Dan's fault.

"This is all your fault," he told Dan. "I can't stop thinking-"

Dan grinned. "You won't be able to call our sex life vanilla again, anyway," he said, and took another very self satisfied bite of his sandwich.

***

Phil emerged from his room around midnight with a completed list. Dan was in his room, fucking around with something on Word, a script of some sort. Phil thrust his list in front of him and waited expectantly.

Dan only said, "That was fast." He indicated his bedside drawer, and Phil went over and got it and flung himself onto the bed.

Dan's list contained eleven items. Phil's had nine.

Dan's first three were exactly the same as Phil's, if differently numbered; it went

1\. Bondage  
2\. Watersports  
3\. Spanking

Over at his desk, Dan gave a small snort, clearly having realised the same thing.

Public sex and orgasm control/denial were on both of their lists.

There was a silence of a few minutes as they absorbed this fresh new information about each other.

"So," Dan said. "Hard limits?"

Phil gave the paper another once-over, even though he already knew it by heart. "Uh, none."

"Me neither," Dan said. "Um, okay, discuss, go."

Phil said: "Breathplay. Is that like, choking? Asphyxiation type stuff? Because listen, this is high-stakes type stuff and I could accidentally hurt you. I'm the guy who dropped my phone and tripped over it today."

"That's what research is for." Dan sounded unperturbed. "I trust you not to kill me during sex. We'll figure it out."

"Knowing me, I actually could," Phil said. "And then what would I tell your mum? You died getting off while I was choking you?"

Dan made a face. "Please don't mention my mum while we're comparing our kink list," he said. "And what's barebacking doing here anyway? We've done it."

"Not... enough," Phil said. "And you haven't done it to me."

"Fair enough," Dan agreed. "Being filmed? Nice. Should we make a channel, too? danandphilVOYEURISM? danandphilKINKS?"

"Shut up, you aren't supposed to kinkshame," Phil said.

"I'm not!" Dan said. "I think it's pretty hot. As is waxplay. Literally. So. I'm good with your stuff." He got up off his butt chair and flung himself on his stomach beside Phil, his warm length along Phil's side. Phil absently carded fingers through his hair, still staring at the list.

"I think I'm good," he told him. "Feminisation?"

Dan's face was buried in his pillow. "Daddy kink slash age play type stuff," he said, indistinctly and very faux casually. "I guess I just wanna wear panties and have you call me your pretty girl, how weird is that, huh, Phil?"

"Not very," Phil said. He thought of lipstick outlining Dan's lips, of lace along the line of his hips. He craned his head to press a kiss on the crown of Dan's head. "Pretty hot, actually," and felt Dan's slight sigh of relief against him like it was his own.


	2. public sex

"I said start off with something easy," Phil sighed.

"This is easy!" Dan insisted. "It's, like, just a step up from making out in the toilets, which we've _done."_

"Yeah, like, drunk, at dark parties."

Dan grinned in fond recollection. "You know that was fun. And this was on both our lists. You can't lie about it."

"I'm just worried some fan's going to be filming us in secret," Phil said, "and someone's going to zoom into your hard on or some shit, and we won't be able to-"

"You worry too much," Dan said. He grabbed at the keys with one hand, and led Phil out of the door with the other.

"What do you have in that backpack?" Phil asked suspiciously, once they were sat on the tube. "And where are you taking me?" 

Instead of answering, Dan enquired: "You've thought about this, haven't you? Where you'd do it. What we'd do."

"Well," Phil said. "Yeah."

Dan smirked. "See, I know, because you told me." 

"I don't remember telling you _anything,"_ Phil disagreed.

He'd remember, definitely. He'd remember talking to Dan about it, except he never had, because it was a ridiculous, dangerous fantasy which he couldn't not think about, sometimes, staring at Dan across a bar, out with friends, after a few drinks, or even - behind the dark tinted privacy of a taxi's windows at night, just reaching over and watching Dan's mouth go slack with pleasure.

"I didn't think you would," Dan said. "Except you've said it while you were fucking me, once or twice. Stuff like, _I wish you'd crawled under the table and blown me right there, so no one but me would know."_

"Dan!" Phil hissed. The elderly woman beside them either hadn't heard, or was pretending not to have heard. His cheeks burned. "I don't remember saying that."

"Well, I do," Dan said. "And it's stuck with me ever since. So we're going to the cinema."

"The _cinema,"_ Phil repeated. "Dan."

He had no real objection, apart from how dangerous it all was, and wasn't that what made it so exciting, really? Fuck. Somewhere along the line Dan had wrested control of this particular experience and Phil was, to be honest, low key worried and high key sort of turned on.

"Phil," Dan said in reply, and smiled at the person manning the counter, and bought two tickets to a Chinese movie titled something Phil couldn't catch, because Dan was dragging him away to the theatre. Their show was starting.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to leave this here," the attendant said apologetically, indicating Dan's backpack.

"Oh, that's fine," Dan responded. "I just need this blanket from it." He pulled out a soft velvety dark blue travel blanket they never really used, and jerked his thumb fondly over at Phil. "He gets cold."

"Aww," the attendant cooed. "Of course. Go right on in." 

"Dan," Phil said at the entrance of their theatre. He pulled at the tail of Dan's shirt slightly. Dan turned, immediate.

"Phil," he said, and looked at him properly. "Hey, you trust me with this, don't you? Because if you don't, we can just-"

Phil relented. "I trust you with anything," he said, truthfully. He led Dan in.

The seats Dan chose were right at the back, of course, and right in the shadowy corner. Dan had obviously planned this, though how, Phil couldn't guess: the movie was just starting, it was indie and dimly lit enough that there wouldn't be any sudden explosions to illuminate whatever it was Dan had planned, and the theatre was loosely enough filled to be _public_ , but there weren't anybody in the rows beside them or directly in front. But if someone turned to look-

"This got an eighty seven percent rating," Dan murmured in his ear. "Pay attention."

The only thing Phil could _pay attention to_ was the slight shine of Dan's eyes, the only thing he could see in the darkened theatre, and the press of Dan's arm against his, but he tried to focus on the screen. An extremely good-looking boy was washing clothes by hand behind his house. He waved goodbye to his father and set off for school.

"He's twenty plus, easy," Dan whispered against the shell of his ear. "I love how he's playing a high school student."

"Shh," Phil whispered back, "that tickles." What he meant was, that went straight to my dick, and Dan seemed to get it, because in the next shot of sunlight onscreen, he saw the curve of Dan's smile.

Twenty minutes passed. The boy in the film met the apparent protagonist, another boy in school, and they started a petty prank war. 

"Is this-" Phil asked.

"Shush now," Dan murmured back. He wasn't touching Phil at all, now, hands primly in his lap and one leg over the other. Not even the warmth of his shoulder. Phil felt a bit cheated. "Watch the movie."

Phil stared back at the screen. The two boys seemed to have resolved their differences, after one had drugged the other with sleeping pills. Or something of the sort. And then they were in bed. And the violins started.

"This is getting interesting," Phil said.

"I thought you might enjoy it," Dan replied, eyes still trained on the screen 

Onscreen, protagonist turned love interest reached for the boy's crotch. A male voice crooned, fēng yě chuīguò, and Dan slid down his seat in one fluid motion, fluid as his tall form would allow, kneeled at Phil's feet, between his legs, and started unbuckling his belt deftly.

Phil was a bit too surprised to say anything. He'd expected a silent, covert handjob, tissues and hurry. Dan said calmly: "Blanket over me, please," and Phil complied, because he was still too shocked to do anything but. Because Dan had gotten his dick out of his underwear, and begun suckling at the tip.

"Oh, god," Phil said, low and gasping. "Oh, my god. Dan."

Onscreen, someone sang, wǒ zuǐjiǎo cánliú xià wēnróu, and the two main leads turned to each other sleepily, moonlight washed over their features.  
Dan was tracing its tip fondly, like it was a beloved friend he was catching up with. The blanket covered him pretty well - if someone were to turn and look, they'd see a huddled mass at Phil's feet. But if they were to properly look-

Phil's fingers clutched at his armrests. He could see the slitted shine of Dan's half closed eyes as he swallowed half Phil's length down, paused to relax and take it in.

Bié zǒng shuō wǒ bù dǒng-

Somewhere in the theatre, someone coughed. Anyone could walk up the aisle to the toilets at any moment. Dan was going about it slow and lingering, but he wasn't letting up. Phil wasn't going to last very long.

"Shit, shit," he swore under his breath. Onscreen, they began kissing, experimental about it. There was nothing experimental about the way Dan pulled off, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, worked his jaw once or twice as if it ached, then, one hand braced on Phil's thigh, swallowed him all the way down.

At the same second, someone a few rows ahead really did get up and start shuffling their way through the row.

"Dan," Phil hissed, panicked, "someone's-"

Dan stopped, but he didn't move off, either. He just stayed there, motionless and breathing through his nose, his mouth still warm and wet around Phil's dick. The person moved past them, taking no notice, incredibly, of the blanketed form huddled at Phil's feet, or Phil's knuckles white on the armrest. The sounds from the movie grew restless, tasteful camera shots of hands sliding in under pyjamas, nǐ wò jǐn shuāngshǒu, fade to black. The exit door swung shut behind Dan and Phil.

"Dan, Dan," Phil said, and came.

Dan swallowed it up patiently as Phil shuddered through it, shocks of the fear-pleasure of almost being caught, the sheer exhilaration of it. He cleaned him off, tonguing him thorough, almost like a mother cat, and finished off with a fond kiss to the side. Then he zipped Phil up and slid back into his seat.

"What did I miss?" he asked, nonchalant about it, except his voice was the tiniest bit hoarse from how he'd gone down so quick and deep, and the person who'd made their way to the toilets was now coming back.

"Oh god," Phil said, when the person had passed them again. "Oh, god."

He could see Dan's cat-like smile again. "So you liked that?"

"Do you want me to," Phil whispered, waving a hand at his crotch. His legs were still jelly. Oh god.

"Nah," Dan said. "Back home."

Back home, Dan gave a firm tick after Public sex on both their lists, and asked Phil: "Would you rate this experience Unsatisfactory, satisfactory, highly recommended, or fuck yeah now I want to graduate onto dungeon parties with tons of people watching?"

In answer, Phil tackled him back onto their bed, and started kissing down his jaw.

"So somewhere between the last two," Dan said, laughing, inordinately pleased with himself, Phil, and the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw the ~movie is a bunch of scenes from a chinese webseries i love copyright (c) addicted/heroin 2016


	3. watersports part one

"So how does this go?" Dan asked interestedly. "Do you want to like, pee in my mouth?"

Phil considered this. "That's maybe," he said, "a bit overboard."

"It'd be okay if you did," Dan offered.

"Would you be _into_ that?"

Dan thought about it. He absently tapped fingers on the side of his laptop. "I think so. If it was you."

"Wow," Phil said musingly. The truth was he'd probably be into pretty much anything, if it was Dan, but he didn't say that. Instead he said, "Perhaps a bit much for the first time we try it out."

Which was how they found themselves in a hotel shower two days later, both naked and sort of - just standing around.

"There really wasn't a manual type thing," Phil said.

"Maybe this is the like, easiest of all BDSM practices and we're just supposed to know how it goes," Dan replied.

"Oh god," Phil said. He turned on the shower. It was a rainshower type thing, which meant it was warm and pressurised and felt pretty great. Dan tipped his head back to feel the water on his face, which. Rivulets of water ran down his neck. Drops clung to his eyelashes.

"Get on your knees," Phil told him, voice unsteady.

Dan went, sinking down in an instant. And then he was looking up at Phil, face upturned for - for whatever _Phil_ would do to him, for goodness' sake.

Phil cupped Dan's cheek because he kind of - had to. Dan turned slightly into Phil's palm, immediate. "Touch it," Phil said, softly. And Dan did, for all the world acting like he'd just been waiting for the chance to roll Phil's dick gently between his hands, smile at it like he was saying hello.

Phil had always wondered at the fact that Dan - vocal, stubborn, in-control Dan - could give up all power to him like this, could go willing and pliable and submissive in this strange, quiet way. But perhaps that was the magic of it.

It was another kind of magic that Phil was the one allowed to see him like this, to love and care for him when he was like this. It felt like a gift only for the most worthy, that type of thing. And yet here he was.

"Good," Phil said. "Good - good boy."

Dan visibly preened, thumb working Phil's slit playfully. He made as if to envelope his lips around it, but Phil said "Nuh-uh."

He stopped, looking up at Phil for further instruction. 

Phil's dick was already well ahead of the game, from a semi since he'd seen Dan on his knees and docile for him, to fully hard when Dan had begun exploring it like the familiar terrain it was to him. He needed to piss from the orange juice he'd drank in preparation for this. He could - he could, right now, watch Dan's mouth widen in surprise and desire. He didn't want - to just make this about him, though, so he instructed Dan: "Back up a bit," until Dan wasn't in the shower anymore. So the only thing he'd feel running down his face was - was.

"Play with yourself," Phil said. "So I can watch." 

Dan was normally more self conscious about these things, a bit about his body, a bit about anyone watching, so Phil wondered again at the ease his hand reached almost lazily down, to jerk himself off in a loose circle, fingers and thumb. He was gone enough to not mind at all.

A gift Phil did not deserve.

He waited, pushing his fingers firmly through Dan's wet hair, off of his forehead, until Dan had started making those soft, breathless sounds which meant he was close to being very close. It didn't take very long. Phil said: "Stop."

Dan, gasping, did.

Phil took a breath. He had to, because he didn't trust himself not to- 

He looked down at his boy, saw nothing but trust.

Phil asked, "Are you sure," because it felt like something bigger than just a stream of piss. Felt like power and territory and trust and a whole lot of words Phil chose not to think about right now.

Dan nodded. His face was upturned, expectant in its tilt. Phil shook his head wonderingly at the gift the gods had favoured the unworthy with and pissed on it.

He hadn't anticipated how _pretty_ it would be: liquid just like water running down his skin, the side of his nose, dripping down his cheeks; except Phil knew that wasn't water, knew it was warm and acrid and _his_ -

He hadn't anticipated how responsive Dan would be to it: his eyes went closed in pleasure and he leaned even more forward like he wanted _more,_ mouth went relaxed like he wanted it on his tongue, perhaps-

He hadn't anticipated how much he would _like_ it. It was so - and Dan looked so -, being marked and owned and Phil's, and the possessive instinct was ridiculous and primal and Phil really, really- 

It only took Dan bumping his cheek inquisitively against Phil's dick, asking non-verbally about Phil's sudden space-out after the pissing had ended, for Phil to come, sudden and unexpected.

Dan blinked up at him. Come striped his temple, his cheek, mingled with the piss that'd dripped off his chin. He looked beautiful. He looked _owned._

"Sorry," Phil said, gasping and getting his sanity back, "sorry. I didn't-"

Dan smiled kind of tenderly up at him, for all the world like Phil was the one who needed to be cleaned up and kissed all over and taken care of. "Always so polite," he said. "That's alright. I quite liked it."


	4. sensory deprivation + sensation play + (light) bondage + barebacking part one

\- We need a sageword  
-*safeword  
\- Remind me tonight

His phone chimed almost instantly: 

\- What Dan And Phil Really Text Each Other

"What are you giggling about with him, god, it's only been two hours, this is unhealthy," Bryony said, peering over his shoulder. She blanched.

"Bryony!" Phil said. "God. That's what you get."

"I don't want to know," she said. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know. Except for how I kind of masochistically do? Please don't tell me." 

"I'm not telling you," Phil said, biting into his sandwich and locking his phone. He winked at her terribly. She burst into laughter.

"Be safe," she said.

"Be quiet," Phil replied, and she kept on laughing. 

***

Dan was still out when Phil got back. Phil tossed the keys onto the table and the small plastic bag onto the sofa. He debated internally upon the merits of microwaved hamburgers versus pizza for a while, but it was much less fun without Dan. Unhealthy codependency at its finest. 

"Hey," he said, eyes on the TV, when he heard the door open. "Supergirl is super cheesy but very entertaining. Not worth a binge watch. Do you want warmed up hamburgers or fresh pizza?"

"Hey," Dan said. There was the familiar sound of him dumping groceries on the kitchen counter. He came out and stood over Phil and tugged at his hair, blocking the TV. It meant, _I missed you._ "No, I impulse-bought Chinese. Your favourite dumplings. Hello. Pay attention to me."

"I think we're unhealthily codependant," Phil mused, catching Dan's hand and holding it. It meant, _I kind of love it._

"Oh, no, we definitely are," Dan said. "I'd probably wither away like one of these houseplants without your attention." He said it matter-of-factly. Had it really been that long ago that he would never have said anything like it to Phil out loud, let alone like it was just another fact of life?

Phil squeezed his fingers, told him: "I bought stuff, look." 

Dan laid the contents of the plastic bag out with a sort of reverence: two pieces of black silk cloth, one black blindfold. One small feather tickler. Phil handed him the earplugs he'd been absently playing with.

Dan surveyed their bounty. Phil observed him instead. He caught Phil's hand again, rubbed his thumb over the junction between thumb and forefinger. It meant, _I like it._

"Safeword," he said.

"Oh, yeah," Phil agreed. "I'll go with Canada."

"Canada?" Dan asked, amused. "Nice. I'll go with Kardashian."

"Just make sure you have no other reason to yell Kardashian out during sex," Phil said. "Like if you suddenly feel the need for us to roleplay Kimye."

"I think we're good on that front," Dan said, flicking Phil's knee. "For now," he added ominously, and laughed at Phil's eye-roll.

***

It appeared that they did not have bedposts on either of their beds.

"I think we haven't graduated to that quite yet, anyway," Phil said, observing Dan's bed, absently wrapping the cloth around his hands. He caught Dan watching his fingers play with the fabric. God. "We'll just, like, tie your hands up?"

"Okay," Dan agreed. "You remember how to do it, right?"

"I think so," Phil said. He'd watched a couple of Youtube videos. He'd practised on Dan while Dan was sleepily scrolling through Twitter this morning. 

"Okay," Dan repeated simply, and scrambled out of his clothes and onto the bed, just like that.

Phil shook his head and stripped off his own. He felt a bit nervous about it, in a way. This was Dan's thing, and he wanted to make it good for him.

"Safeword," he reminded. "And if you don't remember it red is always stop, and orange means slow down. And green means-"

"I know what green means, Phil," Dan assured him. "Please tie me up now."

Phil looked down at his boy. He leaned down and kissed him on the tip of his nose. It meant, _how do you trust me with this?_

Phil trusted Dan whole-heartedly, with his life, in the same way, but seeing Dan like this felt like a different kind of gift.

He said, "Arms above your head, please," and started winding the black silk around Dan's wrists, making the knot he'd practised. He tugged at it. "Too tight?"

"No," Dan said, trying to move his wrists. "S'good." He gave a delighted little full-body wriggle when he found out he couldn't. He was going to be the death of Phil.

"Blindfold next," Phil said, and bit his lip as Dan closed his eyes so Phil could slip it about his head.

"Complete darkness," Dan confirmed. 

"Right," Phil said, and pressed knuckles to his cheek, very gently. "I'm going to put the earbuds in next. If all else fails, kick me as hard as you can, yeah?"

"Green green green," Dan said, impatient about it, so Phil dug the earbuds in. 

"Fuck, say something," Dan said, slightly louder than was necessary.

"Something," Phil replied.

"Did you say it?" Dan asked. "I'm going to assume you said it, and the noise cancellingness of it works. Okay. So."

Phil didn't bother answering, and watched him instead. Dan was spread out, a painting in muted colours, arms over his head, toes curled slightly in anticipation. He was half hard, and he was beautiful, and he was waiting for Phil to do with him as he would. 

He wouldn't be able to tell what was coming, or where it was coming from.  
Phil picked the tickler up. It was small and soft and rainbow-feathered, and he experimentally ran it down Dan's chest, down to his belly.

Dan _jerked_ up, hard.

Phil placed a flat palm under his ribs. It meant _stay still._ He leaned forward and kissed him right underneath his bellybutton, where he was most ticklish, which resulted in a breathless huff, toes curling in even more.

Phil waited a bit, then gently stroked down his length with the tickler.

Dan made a choking noise which, if it had more breath to it, might have been a gasp.

Phil traced his underarms, lightly poked at his armpits. Dan's wrists were straining like he was itching to get him off, but he didn't, and he didn't say anything of the sort, either. Phil circled his nipples, playing with them for some time: a kiss here while the tickler lavished attention on the other. Dan's abdomen lifted and fell again, his heels dug into the bed, and his mouth was wide and slack in pleasure, sometimes making it into noises, whining and mindless. 

Phil traced his name lightly on Dan's thigh. Just because. 

"My good boy," he said, and kissed his slit. And then, just to reassure himself: "Mine."

It did something strange to him, seeing Dan like this.

Dan whined properly then, and nodded vigorously in agreement: he'd not formed a word since Phil had started using the tickler. Phil fondled him and gave him a couple of kisses, then sat back on his haunches. He covered two fingers with lube, sunk them into himself to check that he was still loose and ready from when he'd worked himself open in the shower earlier.

He leaned forward to take Dan in his mouth, make it all drool-wet, and was abruptly overwhelmed with all of him: Dan had instinctively raised his ass, gasping, for more, and Phil gagged at the sudden fullness, pulled off. 

"Stay still," he said reproachfully, even though he knew Dan couldn't hear, "next time I'll tie your legs to the bed somehow," and even thinking about that, really-

He straddled Dan quietly, knees bracketing his waist without touching. He wondered what Dan felt: soundless, dark pressure on either side. Phil sank down, slow.

 _"Oh,"_ Dan said, drawn-out, broken-off. 

"Stay still," Phil repeated, and rose up. Only to lower himself down again, steadier about it. Only to start riding Dan in earnest.

He hadn't thought it would be so - it was, it was _Dan,_ heavy and deep all around and inside him, and they really didn't do it like this enough - open and bared like this. He was so - it was gorgeous and full, and Phil kept his eyes on Dan's face when he wasn't flicking his gaze to wear his dick was disappearing inside him: the red flush up his neck, his bitten lip which did nothing to stifle the lovely, pleased noises he made low in his throat. 

"You're so good," Phil told him. "Filling me up like this. Thank you. You're so good to me, aren't you?"

He sank down, almost fierce about it, definitely possessive about it, once, twice, staking his claim, _yes quick mine_ and Dan shuddered under him, shivering ever closer to the edge, but now he made a questioning sound that might have been Phil's name: he was asking permission.

"Oh," Phil said. He reached up and pulled an earplug out. "Yes. Come on, my lovely boy, come in me," and Dan breathed out, a relieved, definitive sigh, and in the next moment it was wet messy warmth, and Phil felt it - he _felt_ it.

Most nights they didn't bother - Phil had always thought of it as sort of messily unproductive when the cleaner condom-ed thing was more than so so good enough, but he understood now, he understood why Dan loved it so and why he asked Phil for it. Messy, sticky. Strange. Claimed. Yours. Mine. Dan in him, beneath him, all around him. Phil came, a few careless strokes of himself later.

"'d cuddle, but I'm still tied up," Dan murmured, and Phil realised he'd slumped forwards, arms around Dan, breathing in deep through the aftershocks. He got up to kneel and untie him and take off the blindfold: Dan stared back up at him, and Phil was unreasonably glad for the familiar brown.

"Hey, I love you," he said in reply, and dove back into Dan's arms again. It meant: hey. I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i was this dedicated to my bb fic I woulda finished by now rip


	5. daddy kink + feminisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He nosed at the band of Dan's panties. They were as soft as they looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more info about the feminisation in the end notes, if you need to know exactly what's going on.

They had a few vanilla weeks after that. They filmed a gaming vid and Dan worked on something about travelling gripes, which Phil liked because it felt a lot more natural than the stuff he'd overthought lately. Phil fielded emails, mostly, and started continued talking to the BBC about possible upcoming programmes, and went up to see his mum, who'd been guilt tripping him for a few weeks now.

He missed Dan terribly one and a half days in.

"Well, why didn't you bring him with you?" Mum asked, catching him staring distractedly at his phone on the countertop in the middle of a discussion about his Uncle George's frequent and hypochondriacal phone calls.

"He wanted to finish editing, and he said he had some shopping to do," Phil said. "And he'll be down for Easter soon enough."

This was ridiculous. It was three days, a long weekend. They'd had much longer breaks from each other. And yet Phil missed him terribly. 

He wondered if it was the BDSMation of their sex life, but he suspected it was something simultaneously simpler and more intricate, shifting into place. 

"At any rate, Uncle George won't be seated next to me and your father, thank god," Mum said, because she was Mum and she sort of knew already, although how she managed God only knew.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that, Mum," he managed. It was a thing he and Dan had only discussed in abstract before, as a sort of given eventuality: _When we're married-,_ or Not inviting her to the wedding. 

"But you could seat him next to Aunt Hilde, she'll hardly hear him," she mused. He sighed. "Come here, my darling son." She spread her arms out for him. "Tell Dan I'm looking forward to Easter."

***

Phil let himself in way past dinnertime. He'd texted Dan on the train.

\- gonna be late  
\- start without me

The reply was brief: _Nah I'll wait_

"Kitchen," Dan called out.

"Right," Phil said, and dumped his bag on the floor first, because he didn't trust himself not to bowl Dan over with the strange force with which he'd missed him. Of course he wouldn't; he'd nonchalantly walk in, bump a hip against Dan's where he was probably stirring something on the stovetop. Because that was how they worked. 

But who knew, with these strange new paradigm shifts.

In reality, he walked in the kitchen and did neither of these things, because Dan was indeed stirring something on the stovetop, but he was doing so clad merely in a white t-shirt that had always been a bit too big for him, and, Phil realised when he turned to face Phil, dark blue, lacy, soft-looking panties, bulge tucked in and away.

There was proper lipstick on his lips, or some sort of lip gloss, which gave them sort of a darker shine. Eyeliner framed his eyes. Phil couldn't be sure, but he thought there was a touch of blush on his cheekbones.

They wore concealer in videos, some highlighter. But this - this was make up to illuminate, not hide blemishes. And Dan had been taking lessons from Louise or Youtube or something: he was illuminated, tastefully, carefully. He was so, so pretty.

And he was wearing heels. Heels dark and not very high, but heels all the same, pointed toe and thin strap.

"Honey, you're home," Dan said, in a very casual sort of way, and turned back to the salmon he was tending.

Phil realised he'd been staring. Fine. He never wanted to stop. He stepped into the kitchen and knocked his hip against his, curled an arm around him. Just possessiveness. He splayed fingers over Dan's waist, detected some unknown, floral scent: Dan was wearing perfume, cherry blossom, if Phil was to guess.

"Mum says hi, and she'll expect you for Easter." He pressed his nose against Dan's neck, inhaled. "You smell lovely." He followed up with his lips, trailed them to Dan's earlobe. "You look lovely. Just - so very, very pretty."

They were close enough - the expanse of Dan's lovely bare leg against his - that he could hear Dan's breath stutter, but Dan just pushed him half heartedly away with an arm, the corner of his mouth turned up, embarrassed pleasure.

"I'm not going to get this done if you keep-," he said.

"I'll wait," Phil said, and leaned against the counter and got the glasses, and kept looking at Dan.

Dan ladled the fish onto two plates and carried them out into the dining room. Phil followed, watching the line of lace cling to his hips through the almost translucent fabric of the t-shirt. He walked very well in the heels - steadily, if slightly slower - for someone so tall and new at it; he'd probably been practising. God, god.

Dan was clearly waiting for him to be seated. Phil did, and Dan placed his food in front of him and poured him out a glass of wine.

"Thank you, darling," Phil said, feeling slightly surreal about it all. He reached out to rub a thumb over the band of the panties, hook it inside slightly. Dan broke away, small playful smile, over to his side of the table, where he sat primly and delicately. Where had he learnt to be coy?

"How's your dad?" Dan enquired.

Was Phil really supposed to sit and eat and make conversation about his dad when Dan sat across from him, looking like that? Dan was staring at him expectantly, so apparently he was. Phil took a bite of fish and a fortifying gulp of white wine. He could play this game, too.

"Oh, he's good. I told you Uncle George keeps ringing him up to complain about his leg. Dad can't stand it, really, but he's very polite."

"To a fault. That's your family for you," Dan agreed.

"The salmon's great," Phil said, silently toeing off his shoes.

"Thank you," Dan said. "I was trying - _ah._ Trying-" This lapse of coherence was probably due to the fact that Phil had run the side of his stockinged foot up his calf, slow and propiaterally. 

"Trying something new," Dan managed. Phil scooted his chair closer to the table and rested his foot comfortably on Dan's seat, against his inner thigh.

"It's really good," he told Dan. "How was your weekend, then?" 

"I went shopping," Dan said, and looked down at his meal almost shyly. For this, then. For the strappy heels that caused him to walk with an almost sway to his hips, for the lace that cut through the creamy skin on his ass.

"I like what you bought," Phil said. He reached over and touched Dan's cheek. Contouring, he thought it was called, what Dan had done. "I like all of it. Did you do it on your own?"

"Louise taught me some when she was over," Dan said. Phil curled the sole of his foot over his thigh, and he stiffened, but continued eating very properly. Small bites and mouth closed. Sip from his wine glass. His lipstick left a slight smear. Phil closed his eyes. The _death_ of him.

"She did a brilliant job," Phil assured him. This time, the smile Dan hid behind a mouthful of potato was pleased.

"She almost gave up on me," he said regretfully. "Said I kept drawing the lines on too thick. Or something."

"Glad she didn't," Phil said, and meant it. Dan's eyes were darker, somehow, against the mascara or eyeliner or whatever was on there, and his mouth was a line of seductive red Phil wanted to taste; if Phil stretched his leg out a little further, he knew he'd be able to feel lace.

Dan finished earlier than him. Phil had been too busy staring. He set his knife and fork down carefully and then gently pushed Phil's foot off with a hand, then shifted in his seat like he was crossing his legs. Then he just sat. Then he just _looked_ at Phil.

What was Phil going to do with him?

"What am I going to do with you?" Phil despaired aloud.

"I guess we'll find out when you finish dinner," Dan said cheerily.

Phil looked back at him, shook his head, looked down at his dinner. Three bites of mashed potato suddenly seemed an insurmountable task. "I'll finish it later," Phil decided.

Dan looked disapproving. "I know you haven't eaten since morning, you can't just not finish dinner because you're _horny._ " He sounded more like himself than he'd done all evening. "I'll sit in your lap and feed you."

Phil, starved for touch for three days, would have taken any contact at this point. "Come on, then."

Dan came on, circled the table, sat himself on Phil, where he let Phil's arms encircle him and scooped off the top of the mountain of mashed potato.

He was in lingerie and heels. In Phil's lap. Feeding him. God. 

Phil kissed his neck again, just because. Dan squirmed pleasurably.

"I opened myself up for you earlier," he said conversationally. "When you texted me you were almost at the station. I could unzip you and ride you right here."

Phil shook his head against his neck. "I'd choke on my last mouthful. What am I going to do with you?" 

"Spank me and call me a naughty girl?" Dan suggested. His tone was very light. And yet he was averting his eyes, busying himself with carefully setting Phil's knife and fork down.

"You are a naughty girl," Phil said. "Maybe you _should_ ride me right here at this table."

Instead, he took Dan's hand and led him to their bedroom, spread him over the bed and crawled in between his legs. Dan's knees were raised; his heels on either side of Phil. 

"Baby," Phil said. "You're all grown, aren't you? High heels and grown up panties. My baby girl." He didn't know where the words were coming from, but he didn't know where the words that trickled from his mouth when he was running his fingertips over Dan's collar, murmuring praise to him, came from, either.

He nosed at the band of Dan's panties. They were as soft as they looked. Dan's dick, red and leaking, was straining against them. Phil wanted to do something foolish like take a fucking picture to commemorate how incredibly gorgeous it looked. He settled for nosing at his dick through the lace.

"You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?" he asked.

Dan sighed in contentment, eyes closed. "Yes. Daddy."

And. Well. Shit. Phil had not been expecting that. He hadn't anticipated how _hot_ it would be. He was so turned on it hurt.

"Yeah," he said mindlessly, kissing Dan's dick through the panties, watching the pre-cum wet the fabric and make it even darker. He tried to struggle out of his own underwear at the same time. "Yeah, baby, alright, hold on. Let me just take your panties off too, darling, don't want them to tear."

Dan pouted at this, but Phil patted him on the hip and he lifted his ass up obediently. "You can wear them again soon," Phil said. "For me, yeah?" Dan nodded. Phil pressed his finger pads to his hole, found it slick and open as promised.

"You're so good," he said. "So good. Daddy's good girl, aren't you, baby." 

"Yeah," Dan repeated. "Yeah. Daddy." His eyes were open now, and very dark; some of his eyeshadow? mascara? had smudged. 

"You're so pretty." Phil spilled some lube over himself, lined himself up. "So good, so gorgeous." He pushed in slowly. Dan's fingers scrabbled at his shoulder, pulling him in, making a fist. "You take me so well, baby." 

"Yeah," Dan breathed.

"You're so good at this." Fucking Dan always felt like something simultaneously familiar and new. Like being home, and like beautiful new territory he'd never broached before. "Tell me how it feels, baby."

"Good." Dan had lost sentence capability already. "Daddy - _daddy._ Good." Phil had hit the somewhere inside him that made him go loose and desperate, clench up around Phil and mutely ask for more in the way he moved up to meet him, hung on to his neck with the crook of his arm when Phil bent closer to kiss at his chest.

"Good," Phil said. He had no idea what he was saying anymore, just words that made Dan look like that: half-lidded, wonderfully at peace, pleasure written in every feature of his face. "Yeah. Fuck, the way you feel. Your _cunt,_ baby."

 _"Oh,"_ Dan said, surprised-sounding, and came untouched.

Phil hadn't been expecting that; nor, apparently, had Dan, because they both looked at the mess on his stomach in a sort of surprise, but this was so - hot, and then Dan was still clenching around him so beautifully. Phil said, "Close. I'm-" and Dan nodded, and said, "Yeah, come in me, daddy," and Phil could hardly refuse that, could he?

A little while later, when Phil had taken the strappy heels off, cleaned him up and kissed him down and was learning how to gently and efficiently use make up remover, Dan - yawny and soft-edged and truthful, one of Phil's favourite versions of him - said: "I missed you. So much. It was so weird, Phil."

Mum, telling him where Uncle George and his very healthy leg would sit. Something deceptively simple, slotting neatly into place.

"It's the codependency," Phil said. "It's acting up. It's never been so bad. We should get it checked out." 

As simple, apparently, as Dan smiling back at him, _you're so weird._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan wants to feel like and be called a pretty girl, and Phil, during sex, says "your cunt" once, in a way that isn't degrading.
> 
> This has been one of my favourite things to write, ever. I might just give up on everything else and just continue writing Dan in panties. THANK you so much for the nice things you say


	6. enemas

Phil looked doubtfully at the nozzle.

Dan looked doubtfully at Phil.

The nozzle, the tube, and the bag looked at each other. Whether in doubt or not Phil could not say.

He looked up at Dan.

“It's your ass we're squirting this into,” he said. “If you're thinking twice about it, we can always-”

“No no no,” Dan said. “No no no. It's now or never.” He sounded like he was steeling himself for it, which was never a good sign in any sexual act. But he had that look on his face which meant this was happening, and Phil could go with it or not, and Phil always went with it because not was never an option when it came to Dan, and besides this way he'd be able to help, if he could, and perform some type of damage control, if he couldn't.

“Okay,” Phil said. “Okay.”

Dan's hand clenched around his knee, quick, a thank you. They looked down again at the strange apparatus on the bed between them, delivered in nondescript brown packaging this morning by a postman who yawned and held out a stylus for Phil to sign, oblivious to Phil's inner debate on whether he knew or not, unlikely as it was that he'd peeked.

“Well,” Phil said, “let's load up the instructions on how to wash it, then.”

Dan got the warm water. Phil got the lube. When he entered the bathroom, Dan was already sitting on the large towel in the bathtub, devoid of clothing, absently swirling the water in the bag with one hand. “You didn't come up with this because of that Ryden fic, did you?” Phil asked, more of a need to keep talking than anything else. “The one with the milk.”

“Phil,” Dan said, jerked out of his reverie, a laugh startled out of him, one Phil had been aiming for. “No. I mean, I've always just been wondering. And that's what the list is for, right? And also, it's standard cleaning procedure, it's not such a weird and kinky thing.”

“We can skip this one if you aren't ready,” Phil told him, because there were too many _and_ s, “and come back to it.”

“Nah,” Dan said, holding out the bag. “Try new things?” He looked up at Phil, and Phil only saw trust.

He knelt by the bathtub and kissed his forehead. “Try new things,” he agreed.

“Right, then,” Dan said. “What's next?”

“Well,” Phil said, “since you're already loose, the three different positions we read about. One: lie straight on left side, right leg bent over left leg. Two: face down, knees to chest. Three: lie on back with knees bent.”

“Jesus,” Dan said. “I think two’s better for the size of this bathtub, and also the rest sounds like tantric yoga.” He went into position, knees to chest, ass up. “Tell me when,” he said into his arms, voice muffled.

Phil slicked the nozzle up. He gently pressed the pad of a finger in to check if Dan was still ready; he was tenser than he should have been, but relaxed when Phil gently crooked it, exploring, familiar.

“Putting it in,” Phil said.

“Yeah,” Dan said.

“Dan-”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “Green.” Phil pushed the tip of the nozzle in carefully, making sure the bag was at the same level.

“How's it feel?” he asked, curiously.

Dan shrugged, a lift of the shoulder. “Nothing much. Cold. Not like a dick. A pretty lousy dildo.”

“If you're ready,” Phil said. He leaned forward, keeping the bag steady, and kissed him between the shoulderblades. The tension in them seemed to fall away minutely, or Phil was just imagining things.

“Green,” Dan said, so Phil loosened the clamp, and lifted the bag very, very carefully up, just a bit, just the slightest movement. And then a bit more. And then Dan said: “Oh, fuck,” and he stopped.

“What,” he said instantly, tightening it. “Dan, are you alright?”

Dan’s face was considering, but he didn’t look like he was in pain. “Feels weird,” he said, “my stomach.” There was a tense moment in which Phil was on the verge of aborting the whole operation, and then Dan said, features smoothening out, “Okay.”

Phil said: “We can try-” and Dan said, “O _kay_ ,” a bit too loudly. “I knew how this was supposed to go.”

Phil trusted Dan to tell him if anything was wrong, because this was how they worked, trusted Dan to know how much that understanding meant, so he didn’t say anything else, just repeated, “Okay,” and then loosened the clamp again. He lifted the bag in minute increments. Dan was keeping his face forwards. Phil wished he could see it.

“Dan,” he said, after two minutes. He couldn’t even appreciate how lovely the flush spread over Dan’s back looked, or how pale-pretty his ass looked lifted to Phil, for Phil. He worried, because that was what he did.

Dan turned to face him.

“Keep looking at me, yeah?” he said.

Dan nodded. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Phil raised the bag; they’d hardly emptied a fifth of it. “How does it feel?”

“Uh,” Dan said, “I don’t know, um. Like cramps, like eating too much too fast, except not really. Oh, um. I think. Stop.”

Phil clamped down. Dan reached a slow hand to his stomach, started rubbing gradual circles.

“Enough?” Phil asked. Dan met his eyes; whatever he saw there made him nod.

“Yeah,” Dan said. “Yeah, I think- yeah. Enough.”

“Keep rubbing, baby,” Phil said, mindless comfort in words, and began removing the nozzle. “Hold on, I’m going to plug you up, just hold on. You’re so good. You’re doing so well.” He picked up the plug, the practical black average-sized one, and told Dan: “Just going to use the plug now, darling. So there’s not a mess.” Dan made a hitched little intake of breath when the tip started pushing in, his hole fluttering a bit, liquid spilling out, until the plug was pushed in firmly and he tentatively started to get up, get onto his knees.

Phil helped him rub his stomach soothingly, pressed continuous kisses to the line where hair met temple, let Dan take the time he needed. Dan was quiet, and hid his face in Phil’s neck, just for a bit, before he said, “Yeah, I’m. Yeah, ready.” He took Phil’s hand docilely as he stepped out of the bathtub and over to the toilet. He was still hard, but Phil wasn’t going to do anything about it now.

“Shoo,” Dan said, “I don’t need you to see the mess I’m about to make.” Phil was about to protest, but Dan frowned at him, reiterated that he was fine, and shut the door in Phil’s face.

Outside, Phil busied himself getting Dan some warm milk and laying out his pyjamas on their bed. When Dan returned twenty minutes later, naked and clean and headed straight to Phil, he was waiting with a towel.

Dan laid his head on Phil’s shoulder and yawned against his neck as Phil wiped him dry and towelled his hair. “That was- more tiring than I thought it would be,” he said, sleepily. “Almost like physical exertion.”

“Shh,” Phil said, leading him to his side of the bed and giving him his milk.

“Is this- a reference,” Dan said, and laughed, a giggly too-tired sort of sound.

“You’ll never know,” Phil said. He drew the blanket over him. “Sleep now?”

“Mmm,” Dan agreed. He caught Phil’s hand. “I’m sorry that did nothing for you.”

“Maybe next time,” Phil said, honestly. “You know I worry, and it was a new thing I didn’t know much about, and I did too much scary research to properly- well, this time. But we’ll try that again, if you want to.”

“Mm, maybe,” Dan said, eyes closed already. “I don’t know. Was weird, but, y’know.” He stifled another yawn. “’nteresting. Always like you taking care of me. Maybe go back t’it, after, the, the list.”

Phil’s hand was still caught tight between both of his; he held it to his chest like a teddy best beloved. Phil didn’t feel very inclined to move it, only much later, when he could see the steady rise and fall of Dan’s chest and was sure he was asleep. Then he went to the bathroom and cleaned the enema, put it away carefully for maybe-further-use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am really the person who returns after months with a kink that didn't quite work out. i promise next chapter will be more successful.


	7. chastity belt + orgasm denial

The chastity belt arrived along with a postcard from Mum, so there was a weird, terrible disconnect Phil never needed again in his life. Phil turned it over so he could only see the Colosseum; Mum and Dad were in Rome for their anniversary. He turned his attention to the box, the plain brown packaging.

He wondered if Dan wanted to be around to open it. It felt, well - like a present, in its own way. He left it lying on the table, and wandered across to Dan’s room.

Dan, absorbed in a Wikipedia article or some Reddit thread or other - when he was _supposed_ to be doing research on a new Wii game they were thinking of playing on the gaming channel - turned when he felt Phil’s hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t creep, you creeper,” he said. Phil leaned down and kissed him on the temple; he hadn’t seen him since after breakfast. Dan reached out and wrapped an arm around his waist, poked. “That the postman?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Wanna see what he brought?”

Dan looked suspicious. “More huge candles from Korea that smell like fried food?”

“Alright, that was once and it was a huge mistake, I realise that now,” Phil said, flicking his ear. “Come on, come see.”

Dan immediately recognised the nondescript packaging, judging from the way his gaze fixed upon it first, but he picked up the postcard. He smiled when he read Phil’s mum’s inscription, the one that asked how jealous they were that she and Phil’s dad were out here culture-ing, the inscription that included both of them, and hoped they were having a nice break.

He turned his attention to the chastity belt, wrapped up all nice and unassuming.

“Phil, did your mum send us this from Rome?” he asked, very seriously.

“Shut up,” Phil suggested, wincing, and Dan laughed.

A week ago, Phil had turned the screen to Dan, and asked him to pick. Dan had scrolled down for a few seconds and shook his head.

“None?” Phil said. He’d quite liked the black one with the air holes (good for moisture and breathing, the reviews assured them), the one that had a ring for the balls, too.

“No, I just,” Dan had said, and flushed, and mumbled something about wanting Phil to choose.

“Oh,” Phil had said, and had had to kiss him right then.

Then came the business with the measuring, because apparently you had to get a cage it was best to get accurate measurements otherwise, like, maximum discomfort, and apparently it was better to err on the short side for maximum pleasure, and there had been quite a lot of giggling and _Phil the blinds aren’t closed please!_ and apparently you had to measure it when it was fully flaccid, and there was more hysterical giggling and swearing and in the end Dan had ordered Phil out because he wasn’t helping with anything at all, which Phil still felt a bit smug about. Apparently just his hands on Dan’s dick made full flaccidity impossible, but it wasn’t a big deal or anything.

Dan still didn’t know which one he’d chosen.

He sat down at their coffee table and unwrapped it with careful fingers, and revealed the CB-0269, a rubber and silicon wonder, complete with its air holes for ventilation, another to pee, and brass padlock, key dangling proudly from it.

“Oh,” Dan said. “Oh.”

He looked at Phil, eyes wide. “Oh, it’s so pretty.”

“You like it?” Phil asked, just to confirm.

“From the little I know about chastity belts, this seems like a pretty fine specimen,” Dan said. “My aesthetic and everything. You know me so well.” He got up to wrap his arms around Phil, to start briefly pressing his lips everywhere, his chin, his hairline, the tip of his nose.

“I like to think so,” Phil said, playing with his hair, smiling against his kisses.

“Bring me off before we put it on, come on,” Dan said.

“You wanna,” Phil said. “Now?”

“Come on,” Dan said, taking his hand, slipping it into his sweatpants. Phil automatically rubbed his thumb over the silky warmth; a reflex action at this point. Dan sighed, moved his lips restlessly over Phil’s skin, bucking up.

“C’mon, couch,” Phil said, and managed to move Dan over, managed to get him sitting, sweatpants down to his ankles, head thrown back, as Phil slipped his mouth over the head, got it all sloppy and wet.

He drew it out, made it good, made it last, even as Dan tugged desperately, a silent complaint at Phil only giving his dick kitten licks all over; Dan would remember this time, how Phil had made it good, as his dick strained against its cage, later.

Dan came, shuddering, all down Phil’s mouth. Phil comfortingly kissed the inside of his knee, stroked up his thigh. He settled down beside him.

“Mmm,” Dan said, and put his head on his shoulder. He made as if to reach for Phil’s waistband, but Phil shook his head.

“I can do that later,” he said, “you can’t,” and Dan turned his face into his neck, like he quite liked the idea.

This was Phil’s thing. “Dan?” he said, because he had to check again.

“Mm?” Dan repeated, muffled.

“If you don’t want to,” he said, “you don’t have to, just- just for me.”

It didn’t take Dan any hesitation. “Of course I don’t _have_ to,” he said, “that’s not how safe, sane and _consensual_ works. I want to.”

Phil kissed his ear.

“Also, it’s hot,” he said, still obscured by Phil’s neck, “not being able - to - well. You, having the key.”

 

Later, with Phil and the (water-based, warned every site) lube’s help, the ring went around his base, under and behind his balls, and the cage wrapped his pushed-down dick like the prettiest present, brass of the padlock shining in the soft light of Dan’s bedroom, and Phil kind of wanted to take a picture.

“How does it feel?” he asked, instead.

“Not the most comfortable,” Dan said, studying it. When Phil frowned, and reached for it, he said: “No, no, not like, painful. Uncomfy in a good way, like I know I’m - restricted.”

He was blushing. The key felt very solid in Phil’s palm. He put it carefully into his bedside drawer as Dan tried out walking, and then cautiously pulling his pants up over it, then taking them off.

“Alright,” Phil said. “Do you want to piss again?”

Dan shook his head. He crawled back into bed, and Phil drew the covers over them both.

“Fuck,” Dan said, into the darkness. “I want to come already.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes, Dan,” Phil said, shaking his head, laughing against Dan’s cheek, curving an arm over his head as Dan cuddled into him.

 

He woke up with something hard and weird and plasticky pressing against his thigh, and Dan making frustrated, whiny noises. He opened his eyes, but Dan’s were still closed. He was probably doing it unconsciously. That was - really hot, actually.

He pushed the covers down, and was fascinated to see Dan’s morning wood pushing against its confinement, trapped and full, probably heavy to the touch. Dan blinked at the feeling of air over his exposed skin, took a few more blinks at Phil and then his dick to remember what was going on, and then sighed.

“I want to _come_ ,” he said, sleep-scratchy, and threw his arm around Phil’s waist, and rubbed up against his leg. “I can _feel_ it.”

“Not yet,” Phil soothed, amused. “You can help me out, though.”

Which was how he received a sloppy, sleepy handjob from his boyfriend as the early morning sunlight filtered through the blinds. Said boyfriend fell asleep again right after that.

 

Dan had gotten himself into his giraffe onesie when Phil returned from his bagel run. “I can’t wear my jeans out,” he complained as Phil set out his bagel and a latte in front of him. “They’re all going to see we’re dirty, dirty people with overly healthy sex drives and a tendency for BDSM.”

“Oh, no,” Phil said. “Oh, well. The neighbours already think that. And I’m pretty sure the internet already knows.”

He watched Dan curiously as he dealt with the paper bag and looked in the fridge for lunch; he moved awkwardly, and kept reaching down and then stilling his hand, like he had a wedgie he could not fix.

“Did you try peeing with it on?”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “Yeah, I took a shower with the swab and everything, did it like the instructions said.”

He did cup his crotch then, and looked at Phil, something already unconsciously pleading about it, which was really, really hot. Phil pressed his lips to his temple as he passed him on the way out.

They spent a pretty uneventful day in the lounge, on their laptops, Dan working on his tumblr HTML, shifting every now and again in his seat. Phil next to him, always ready to run his knuckles over his arm, nose at his hair, kiss his cheek, calm him down. They ordered pizza as evening fell around them.

"Hey,” Phil said.

Dan looked up. Phil kissed him in answer to the wordless request on his face; something about the device, the- the _chastity_ made him want affection. Phil said, “I think you should answer the door.”

Dan’s eyes widened. But he didn’t say no.

Phil watched him from the top of the stairs: watched him affect nonchalance, thank the kid for coming out on the cold night, hand over the money. But when he reached Phil again, he was flushed, like he’d run the flight up.

“It felt like he knew,” he told Phil, over his first slice. “It was-”

He shut up, and chewed furiously, and his face was still lovely and red, so Phil nuzzled the pink on his cheekbone, and then ate as well.

In bed later, he said, “Suck me off-” and Dan did, crouched over himself on the foot off the bed, panting and greedy, more worked up about it than he would have been, usually. When he swallowed, he said, “Phil, Phil,” and palmed at his dick, the _cage,_ and stopped, and looked up at Phil desperately.

“Not yet,” Phil soothed, and Dan made a noise of choked-off frustration, and slumped back onto his side, and whined into Phil’s shoulder.

“You can be a good boy for me, can’t you?” Phil murmured, petting at his hair. “You can wait just a bit more for me, I know you can,” and he just kept stroking gently, until Dan’s breaths evened out.

 

The next morning he woke Dan up by suckling delicately at his nipples, kissing down his stomach, feather-light ones over his thighs; Dan bucked his hips up, hard, and almost got Phil full in the face with his knee.

He looked at Dan reproachfully.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dan said, breathless, tangling his fingers through Phil’s. They both stared down at his dick, which gave a sad, needy sort of twitch.

“Not yet,” Phil said, and Dan’s fingers closed around his wrist, nails digging, and his breath hitched as he turned his face into Phil’s side.

 

As the day progressed he grew quieter and quieter, sticking to Phil’s side as Phil edited, helping him as he folded laundry, nosing into his jaw for another kiss. Phil sneaked glances at him when they were on the sofa, after lunch; he was staring at his phone, but his gaze was vacant. Every so often he squirmed, and stared at Phil. Phil focused down at the online registry options for his cousin, the weight of Dan’s gaze heavy on his cheek.

He was very quiet by evening, docile and spacey in the way he mostly got when they were playing, when he had the collar around his neck. He had his head on Phil’s shoulder when Phil said: “Dan?”

He made a sort of responsive mumble.

“I was thinking we could go down to the shops,” Phil said. “We’ve run out of milk.”

Dan stared at him. His throat worked, then he said, voice a rasp, even though Phil had done nothing- _nothing_ to him yet: “Phil.” He tried again: “Phil, they’re all going to know.”

He hid his face into Phil’s skin again.

“They won’t know,” Phil soothed. “They won’t, but we will. But- only if you want to, my good boy. Tonight you can come for me, either way. My good boy,” he said, comfortingly, running his hand up Dan’s stomach, thumb over his hipbone, expanses of skin where everything was soft and lovely and curved and flattened out in all the right places. “Only if you want to.”

Dan sort of shuddered under his touch, then silently got up, and went into his room. When he made a reappearance he was in sweatpants and his long Vetements sweater, and Phil was waiting.

“My darling,” he said, into Dan’s ear, stepping close. Dan’s eyes hazed over again, and everything was sort of heavy and dark and warm. But- he’d had a plan to this, and it involved showing Dan off, in his own way. It was- it was for him. But he would make it good for Dan, too. Everything was for Dan, everything.

Asda was sickly fluorescent as always and empty, except not quite. A teenager pondered the condom section; a harried mother with two babies in a stroller spoke on the phone. Phil got the milk, and asked Dan if he wanted anything. Dan said, quietly, “Yoghurt,” close and warm beside him, and Phil said, just as low, “Of course,” and they headed to the section. A man met their eyes on the way; Phil felt Dan stiffen, just an increment, as they walked. The cashier threw out a tired greeting; Dan just moved closer to Phil, and Phil thanked them.

Dan stayed in his personal space as they walked down the street; the streetlights threw his face into golden relief once, twice; curls sweetly messy, sleeves down to his fingers. Mine, Phil would have said, triumphantly, right there on the street, if there had been anyone else to hear. Mine, I hold his key.

“Phil,” Dan was begging, as soon as they entered the flat, “Phil, _oh_.” He hardly let Phil set the milk down before he was crowding him, saying _please_ in that voice that wasn’t quite all here.

“Shh,” Phil said, “Dan, shh, here come on, good boy,” and so they ended up on the bed, Dan feverishly rutting up against air, nothing, reaching for him and letting go, letting him take off their clothes, letting him rub a coated finger inside him, and when Phil got the key, let him claim his mouth and finally rut up against Phil’s erection, he gave an odd, helpless _jerk_ , and Phil pulled away-

He hadn’t come, that wasn’t _come_ , but he was dribbling something clear, and breathing very fast.

Phil let out a surprised huff of laughter. “Wow,” he said. “Dan _Howell_. Yes, yes, sorry, my darling,” when Dan closed his eyes and made a sobbing noise and reached helplessly out again, and then he unlocked the brass padlock, because he had the key.

“Watch me,” he said. “Dan, watch me,” so Dan opened his eyes, and Phil crooked two fingers inside. Here, here, and he said, “Come for me, good boy? Come for me, please,” and Dan, untouched, _cried out_ , writhed and sobbed through it like it was being wrenched out of him.

 

“I want to do this again,” Dan said, contemplating Phil’s list.

“After this one,” Phil said, pointing.

Dan smiled, soft. “Sure,” he said, voice still scratchy from when he’d completely _given himself over to Phil for two days_ , and Phil’s throat sort of locked in on itself, and only Dan held the key for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- it's _4.23 am._ this means you will forgive all the sentences that sound something like "Phil loved to kissing Dan's neck" thank you for your patience 
> 
> \- this is dedicated the anon who asked me three weeks ago about it s/o to your patience, and Mia who suggested this in the comments :)
> 
> \- they are literally called _keyholders_ that's romance in bdsm-speak


	8. breathplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have a safeword,” Dan said. “What is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers in end notes if you need a bit of elaboration on what these two are doing in this chapter.
> 
> (AND for the anon who requested: _I'm not sure if you're still doing the 30 min fic requests?? but if you are, could you do one with breath play/choking?_ )

“I think I’m going to propose,” Phil said. “Soon. It can be a long engagement, we don’t have to be married yet, but.”

Martyn smiled cheerfully and speared another piece of salmon. “Nice. Oh man, I’ve got to take Neeli here.”

Phil had expected more of a response from his own brother, really.

Martyn noticed his expression. “Phil!” he said, putting his fork down. “Phil, honestly, I really think it’s great. It’s just that we have had this conversation four times.” He started counting off his fingers. “Once in 2010, once in 2014, and two times during this very meal.”

“We weren’t ready yet!” Phil said. “We wanted to, but we weren’t- it would’ve been too early, the first time, and we would’ve just done it to fix things, to plug holes, the second. You can say it,” he added, looking at Martyn’s expression.

Martyn snickered. “That’swhathesaid.”

“I’m constantly around twelve year olds,” Phil said. “That’s why you two get along so well.”

***

When Phil got home, Dan waved at him from where he was lying on the floor, laptop on his stomach near their coffee table.

Phil dropped to his knees and kissed him upside down, on his forehead. Dan tilted his head up, pursed his lips for a proper kiss, and asked how Martyn was, like Phil hadn’t been texting him throughout.

“Fine, he says hi,” Phil said. His gaze caught on the browser.

Dan said, “Research.”

“Ah,” Phil said. “So what does Reddit have to say on breathplay?”

“That it’s super good and hot when done properly,” Dan said hopefully.

“Uh-huh,” Phil said. He pressed his cheek to Dan’s, briefly, and went off to fetch his own laptop.

Once, when they had been - a lot younger, and everything was new, late at night, Dan confessing things into Phil’s shoulder, _it’s just- my neck, I get- when anyone touches-,_ and Phil exhilarated off of the boy, for some miraculous reason his, and Dan saying, _I trust you,_ and Phil saying, _you can, you can,_ they’d looked up how to lessen someone’s air pressure properly. Fingers on the carotid artery, not on the windpipe, nowhere near the vagus nerve. He had carefully, very very gently, squeezed and Dan had come, just like that. And Dan had never brought it up again until now, until the list, so Phil hadn’t either.

Apparently he could’ve _killed_ Dan, though.

“Any form of breath play has some basic health risks,” he read out. “Severe and perhaps permanent damage to the carotid arteries. Reduction of blood flow to the brain tissues during choking may cause Ischemia.”  Cerebral anoxia. Heart arrhythmia. Oxygen deprivation of the heart, or anoxaemia. Jesus, he’d read a couple of articles on how-to and thought-

“Dan, I could’ve really hurt you,” he said.

He glanced down at Dan. Dan was looking very determinedly at his screen, so Phil waited him out.

Dan said: “I really liked it that time.” He moved his finger restlessly up and down the mouse pad, focusing on that instead. “I never wanted to bring it up again. I thought you thought it was weird. I was like. Shit lmao he’s going to leave. But I.. that trust. That power you had. You-” he cut himself off.

“Obviously,” he said, “Say no if you aren’t comfortable. I just. Thought I’d let you know.”

Phil leaned forward and brushed some of Dan’s hair away from his ear, unnecessarily.

“Dan, I’m not going to feel safe actually choking you,” he said. “I’m not trained. There are too many risks.”

“And that’s fine,” said Dan, quickly, index finger moving like a blur, exiting the three tabs he had open. “We can move on. How about that sex tape thing, huh?”

“If you still want it,” Phil continued, slowly, “we could do it less… dangerously, perhaps. The breathplay.”

Dan bit his lip, and looked at Phil.

“There’s- well, you can breathe when I tell you to,” Phil said, “and I can cover your mouth, but not your nose. That’s a bit more- and at any time, you can-”

Dan was nodding, too eagerly. Phil realised he really, really wanted this, had been joking about it offhand in that way of his that meant it had properly been on his mind.

“I’m going to do a lot of reading up first,” he said, “a whole week’s worth, maybe. And so are you.”

***

“You don’t have to,” Dan said.

Phil knew he meant it, too. He was stretched out on the bed, mouth swollen with anticipation and Phil’s slow kisses, but he would turn and kiss Phil and sweetly jerk him off and never bring it up again, if Phil said he’d changed his mind.

“I know I don’t have to.”

“You have a safeword,” Dan said. “What is it?”

“Canada,” Phil said dutifully. “What’s yours?”

“Kardashian.” Dan kept a hand on the back of Phil’s neck, and drew him down so that he could hide his face in its side, and said, quietly, “Do you want to?”

Phil could hear _do you think I’m weird?_ and _God, I want you to, so much,_ and _Please want this as much as me._

He thought about Dan, that night, _I trust you_ , and Phil saying, _you can, you can_. That pure, unwavering, strength of his trust, it was everything, all at once and he wanted this, if Dan did, because Dan did, because Dan wanted to show him just how _much_ -

He thought he understood now, understood a bit more.

“Yes,” he said, honestly. He drew back so Dan could see it in his eyes. “Yes, I do.” Dan closed his own eyes, then, the way he did when he was trying to accept something, wanted to let it sink lung-deep, and felt like he couldn’t.

Very carefully, then. He felt like saying it again. But he slid his hands up Dan’s sides, that lovely smooth terrain he knew and loved and lifted his shirt off, and stretched up to pull off his own, and then they were rocking against each other, slowly and with gathering intent. When they were both naked and close and Phil could only feel the velvety slickness that made up Dan, Dan at his most precious and vulnerable against him, slick and slipping away, catching again and making them both sigh, Dan reached up and furled his fingers around one of the arms bracketing his head.

He didn’t say anything.

Phil knew what he wasn’t saying, and it wasn’t a plea: it was a chance for for an out. They could stop now, and Dan would still just roll over to kiss him, sweetly jerk him off.

He looked down at it: wide oak-eyes with the shadows underneath, bump in the line of his nose, dotted constellations that made up his skin. He loved this face more than he-

-if anything ever happened to it, Phil thought that he might-

He hovered his palm very, very carefully, over the wet, concentrated bow of Dan’s lower lip.

“Tell me how you’ll tap out,” Phil said.

The fingers gripping onto his back knocked a quick, agreed-upon pattern.

“You will tap out,” Phil said. “For anything at all.”

“Yes,” Dan promised, quietly.

“I love you,” Phil said.

Dan did not answer. His mouth was damp as Phil crushed it very, very gently. There was absolute stillness, for a second, and then there settled an almost _urgently_ calm look in his eyes, even as the oak was swallowed, swallowed up, and he bucked up against Phil, involuntary, like he needed more of Phil’s weight to steady him.

Phil could feel the warm puff of his breath on his little finger. That hasty rhythm that seemed to trip over itself. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

“Breathe,” Phil said. “Breathe, Dan.”

The rhythm gradually steadied itself.

“Breathe, Dan.”

- _would_ do anything. Anything.

“Breathe,” Phil said, and Dan looked up at him, nothing, never anything but absolute trust, the calm security that came with that, even as Phil felt how hard he was, against the inside of Phil’s thigh.

“Stop,” Phil said, and the puffs of air against his finger stopped. “Stop.” He counted one. He counted two. He counted three, and counted until ten.

Dan’s dick twitched, hard and wet, and Phil could feel it, braced above him. He could feel his lips part slightly, maybe involuntarily, against Phil’s palm.

“Breathe,” Phil said, and Dan did, deep breath in, so good.

“Stop,” Phil told him. When Dan did, Phil studied him. He had amazing breath control, Phil knew this for a fact, but he looked so _gone_ already, just from the fact that it was _Phil_ in control of it. He counted fifteen, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips very slowly to the fluttering pulse of Dan’s throat. It thudded underneath his lips, the flat of his tongue. He could taste Dan’s heartbeat. _You can_ , he’d told Dan once. He’d meant that. He would do anything to keep this person safe, and healthy, and happy. He reached down to touch, and his hand came away slick. Dan was leaking and full and very close.

“Breathe,” Phil said, and Dan inhaled air, gripping onto him, nails digging into his skin. He lifted his hand from Dan’s mouth and placed it on his neck. Not pressing on anything-, but just to hold. So he knew. So Dan knew he knew.

Dan held onto him as he came, and came, like a shuddering sigh.

Like an exhale.

***

“I think we’re ready,” Phil said, but contradicted himself by immediately asking: “Do you think we’re ready?”

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Martyn said. “No-one can.”

“I want us to be ready,” Phil said.

Martyn stared thoughtfully at his salmon. “Is that enough?”

“There’s- I can feel it,” Phil said. “But it has to have changed for him in the way in did for me. I have to be sure.”

It might not be the same thing at all. It might mess up this so, so good thing they had going, if they weren’t on the same page and Dan knew he wanted to change the status quo just now. If Phil just, maybe, waited. But there was just waiting because they weren’t ready, and there was using it as an excuse for being a coward.

“Then you have to ask,” Martyn said, very sensibly.

Phil hated his brother sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is some discussion of previous unsafe kink exploration. they do not actually get to choking, sorry dan, but there is breathplay as tagged, and if you don't feel comfy with that, then all you need to read in terms of plot is before and after the first and last asterisks.
> 
> when i outlined this chapter way back in july i did not expect dan to suddenly make it his new favourite thing.


	9. sex tape + watersports part two + barebacking part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, it came down to Dan, like most things did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY tell me what you think friends

Sometimes they played this game:

Dan rocking slightly against Phil in the too-early dawn of the morning, sleepy, not as mindless as he’d like to make it seem, asking, “Are you awake,” whispering. Phil brushing his lips against the texture of his hair, Dan whispering, “I need to piss,” but not getting up, not leaving the bed, just shifting repeatedly, ever so slightly, against Phil.

Phil saying softly, “Okay,” and nosing at his hair, his temple, the crown of his head. Until Dan bit at his neck, or let out a little shiver, and swung his legs over the bed, took himself to the bathroom.

So it only made sense that they would end up here, Dan sidling up next to Phil across the middle seat. “I need to go,” he confided, the slightest of murmurs, like a secret.

Phil said, “In a bit,” because they were almost home. But Dan looked up at him with huge dark eyes, and Phil watched the glow of a streetlight, the shine of a car’s headlights, glint off of the brown.

When they headed up, Phil dropped the keys on the table and turned to face Dan. They had only one lamp on and Dan’s face was shadowed, angles sliding in and out of the light as he shifted from one foot to the other. Phil asked, quietly: “Do you need to go?”

Dan nodded, gaze focusing on Phil’s face, intense, then away, embarrassed.

“Why don’t you go keep our stuff away first, then?” Phil requested. Dan’s gaze darted to the bags, to Phil again, and he nodded again. He went, slowly.

Most times, Phil had no idea what he was doing when he did this. It wasn’t like he had a plan, he never did. He never knew where it _came_ from, but Dan was always so lovely, so loved, and when he looked up at Phil like that something went dark and possessive inside of Phil, and that was where the words bubbled up from, that thickly velvet place.

Phil washed up and changed into sweats. He was scrolling through the hours he’d missed on Twitter when Dan returned, walking quickly. He went to Phil and curled his hands into Phil’s shirt. He didn’t say anything, but the plea was evident in the way his face was screwed up, brow furrowed. Phil said, “Shh-sh,” senselessly, and kissed his temple.

“I kept the stuff,” Dan said, quietly urgent.

“Yes, darling,” Phil said, and led Dan to the bathroom.

This was where he took his time undressing Dan. Dan who was shivering as Phil drew his sweater over his head, sudden chill and lingering desperation, but Phil kissed him again, shoulder now, soothing.

Dan’s hand reached for his crotch, between them, and Phil realised his eyes were wet.

“Oh, baby," he said.

He sank to his knees, nosed at Dan’s knuckles. Dan slowly, slowly moved them, shivered again. Phil had smelled it, slight and acrid, but now he watched the small dark spot. He pressed his thumb to it, and Dan gave a desperate, involuntary noise.

“You leaked,” Phil said. “Lovely boy. It’s fine. You’re fine.” Dan’s hand scrabbled slowly over Phil’s ear, his shoulder, seeking something wordlessly, and Phil reached up to tangle his fingers in his while he flicked open the button of Dan’s jeans with the other hand. He made Dan slip out of them, watched the bigger, darker stain on his underwear.

“Please,” Dan said, ragged, not a proper word. He was about to break Phil’s fingers. He was trying to be still for Phil - limbs tense and held in that moment before a shift in movement, moving his hips forward incrementally.

“Darling,” Phil said, soothed, stepping them towards the bathtub. He made short work of his own clothes, and moved to press himself towards Dan. When he said, “Let go, Dan,” Dan let out a broken sigh and Phil could feel it, warm and wet, spreading and trickling against Phil, towards the floor, through the hot damp fabric of Dan’s underwear.

***

The next morning, Dan stirred himself awake in Phil’s arms.

He moved to face him. “Phil,” he said, nuzzling. Last night he’d been heavy-limbed and sleepy after, clingy in the aftermath. Now he tugged at a lock of Phil’s hair, hooked a leg around his waist. “Phil.”

“Mmm,” Phil said. He was more awake than he was pretending to be; there was something anticipatory in Dan’s tone. Something expectant. He said, “Ph _iiiil_ ,” again, and, when Phil prised his eyes open, “We’re making a _sex tape_ today!”

He grinned at Phil, infectious, dimpling, ridiculous. Phil shook his head and pulled him back in, back of his head into his chest, kept him safe.

***

The promise of it, to Phil, was the risk. Or perhaps that was wrong: not the risk, the excitement of _controlled_ risk. Risk equalled fear, and that was not hot at all. Controlled variables meant dancing on the edge and that sweet terrifying possibility of total openness, but knowing he’d never actually fall off because it was Dan and Dan would never let him fall. Dan would take the fall for him before he allowed Dan to fall; Phil knew this for a fact.

In the end, it came down to Dan, like most things did. Phil said, “Your room,” when Dan asked, so Dan lugged the equipment there and informed Phil that he was doing dinner _and_ dishes in repayment. Phil sat on the bed and smoothed his hands over the unwrinkled sheets and waited for Dan to fiddle with the camera, said _Hi camera_ when Dan asked to check for sound.

When Dan joined him, Phil was drizzling lube, clear and cool, over his right hand. The camera wasn’t on yet. “Help me with it,” Phil said.

“Yeah?” Dan asked, and Phil nodded. “Lazy twat,” Dan said, easily, and Phil had to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then, that sweet smile.

He was beginning to see more and more why Dan adored this, this rawness, open and overwhelming, the thought of Dan in him, unfiltered. This felt right. Camera on and tape rolling, everyone knowing exactly what Phil loved most, the only person he’d ever allow himself this vulnerability with this anymore, forevermore.

When Phil was slick, ready, open enough, Dan’s fingers and his, Dan said, “Yeah?” Phil nodded: Yeah. This was good, so good, and inexplicably, there was that little rush of adrenaline before doing something different on camera: DAPGO, the radio, Gamingmas’ candour. There would be nobody to see it this time, but it would be here, if Phil wanted. Full and lasting proof. Who they belonged to. Unadulterated, messy, _honest_.

He watched Dan’s easy movement off the bed, watched Dan’s thumb run over the side of the camera. The tiny red light flickered on, all-seeing. Phil watched it. And then Dan was back and kissing Phil, deep, and then this was all that mattered anymore. Dan golden and beloved, all around him, a lull in the rush, a steady solid presence. Dan pushed onto his back as Phil urgently straddled him, hands insistently running over Phil’s back, always like he couldn’t get enough of Phil. The way he watched Phil. Phil sank onto him, too-quick. Too quick, but it felt good this way, so Dan knew - _knew_ Phil felt the same way, always did, always would, perhaps more, except he never quite knew how to-. Never enough. Dan’s eyes wide, his lips too-dry gnawed-on, and Phil leaned forward to kiss the bite of his teeth away. It’d be bleeding soon. Dan’s dick shifted inside Phil at the movement, and Dan said, “ _Oh_ -”

The blinking red light, a blessing and curse, whatever they made of it. This would be on tape, permanent evidence of the slick and drag of Dan inside Phil, the way he moved his hips up to meet Phil halfway, how practised their movement was, born of years of practice, how good he made Phil feel, how much, how much Phil loved him.

He collapsed into Dan, later, and Dan held him close, tiredly pressed his nose, canine-like, all over Phil’s neck. It was moments like this when Phil felt he could say it. He didn’t. Not yet. He absorbed Dan’s touch, basked in it, kissed his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friends. if you want some excellent omorashi perhaps visit dizzy's profile. we accidentally wrote The Same Things on the same Day again and hers is just SO MUCH HOTTER, REALLY. http://archiveofourown.org/works/9572441

**Author's Note:**

> tags will be added with every new chapter do check them to see if there's something you're uncomfortable with
> 
> talk to me about this on tumblr @ snsknene!


End file.
